Necklace
by VladimirsAngel
Summary: The Company ride out for Isengard and it is time for Lupa and Legolas to part...please R & R and be as gentle as you can...*CHAPTER 10 UP...FINISHED*
1. Aragorn

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NECKLACE

Okay, I admit it…I love Tolkein's books, but here I drift from my reading and take a hint from Mr Peter Jackson and his movie. This is just a short interlude that never took place. It can't really be called a story, because it does not have a beginning, middle or end. It's just something I wrote when tired one night! ^_^ Hope you like it. 

JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie. None of the battle events or characters detailed in this piece are in any way my property. 

Aragorn looked across sternly into Legolas's eyes. _You're late_, the elf had said, with a slight cock of his head and a hint of devilment.

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Was that a joke? he felt like saying, but was too weary to consider it. He shifted his weight onto the other foot, discovered that neither leg could be considered the better, and shifted back with a grunt.

Legolas frowned a little, regarding his companion. "You look terrible," he added, slipping back into the common speech. 

Aragorn was tempted to say the same to the elf, but in conscience could not. Obviously the fear that Aragorn had been lost forever had hit the immortal harder than he himself would have suspected.

The Ranger shrugged, wincing at the slash across his shoulder. "Thank you," he said, wryly. "I feel as if the weight of all your long years had been placed on my body, my friend."

Again that hint of amusement in the elf's eyes, then Legolas dug into a pocket and held out his hand. Aragorn saw the glint of silver and felt that very same weight lift a little as the pale light filtering in past the Deeping Wall caught the necklace and made it shine.

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Arwen…

He had not even been fully aware that he had lost the pendant. The memory of Elrond's daughter had saved him, while his mind had been wandering in pain and shadow. Wondering, he reached out and took the jewel from Legolas's hand. _The light of the Evenstar…given freely…_

Legolas watched him with quiet patience (something elves had plenty of time to develop) until Aragorn reached back to fasten the necklace back at his throat and tuck it safely inside his tunic. Perhaps it was Aragorn's imagination, but he could have sworn that the elf's hand was at his own slim neck, grasping for - what? Another necklace, lost decades ago?

"You are a fortunate man, son of Arathorn," Legolas said, eventually, breaking Aragorn out of his reverie. "I imagine you have spoken with Lord Elrond regarding the consequences of a union between yourself and his daughter?"

Aragorn considered the possible reaction of Elrond. The lord of Rivendell was a fair and reasonably avuncular fellow, but there had been something of the protective father about the set of his face when he saw Aragorn and Arwen together. Aragorn doubted that Elrond had many favourable thoughts towards a mortal-immortal match. 

He answered evasively. 

"There may yet be no union," he said. "Saruman's army comes to Helm's Deep, and they come in force. I am barely hours ahead of them."

"_Yrch_," said Legolas, bitterly, the light of anger glittering in his eyes. Aragorn frowned.

"You harbour a real hatred," he said. It was obvious in every movement the elf made when he fought orc-kind. Elvish fighting style is graceful, fluid, almost like dance. Legolas fighting orcs had the awful, jagged feel of a grudge match long awaited. It takes a special kind of strength and fury to use a flighted Galadrrhim arrow as a hand-weapon. Legolas glanced at him, expression carefully absent from his porcelain face - and made no comment: merely asking, "How many?"

"More than there are maggots in a warg's carcass," Aragorn replied. "We have to prepare. Theoden must know what evil advances upon Rohan this night."

"Aragorn."

Legolas was already looking around the keep, gaze flicking over possible weak points.

"Too many riders were lost on the way here," he said. He did not have to say anything further.

"I was not disputing the use of these good archers, master Elf," said the dwarf's voice, deep over the plinking of the rain on the armoured shoulders that towered above him. "I was merely saying that myself, with a few properly-wielded strokes of my axe, could fell just as many of Sauron's fell beasts as you and your bow…"

Legolas, seeming quite heedless of the foul weather, laughed. 

"Then we shall see," he said. "Suppose you and I play a little game with them? There look to be plenty for all…"

Gimli snorted. "Games? You elven folk choose the oddest moments to jest. A dwarf-game, now, that's a real sight to see…"

The sight of the advancing army halted his recollection. Aragorn was standing high on the Deeping Wall, the keep behind him. The Ranger held Arwen's necklace tightly in one hand - his expression was as grim as one who already surveys a pile of his comrade's corpses. 

He looked at Legolas, standing immobile, obviously already practising his draw in his mind. _There is nothing worse, _he thought, _than seeing the death of elves. They are not meant to die…_

He thought of Arwen, giving him a simple gift, just a necklace, nothing more. _There is nothing worse,_ he imagined Elrond saying, _than the death of a mortal whom you love. Arwen. Reconsider._

"Aragorn," Legolas was saying, an odd look of battle-joy on his fair face. "You are making a target of yourself. Come back behind the parapet."

"Am I?" Aragorn laughed, feeling a peculiar mix of fear and exultation setting in. _I am setting myself - and her- up for a fall…_

"Then I shall join you."

"Mind my axe," came the voice of the dwarf as the Ranger stepped down. "Damn these Elves and Men….never looking where they are going…"

The step of the advancing army rang loud in the stones of the Hornberg. Gritting his teeth, Aragorn, last king of Numeanor, awaited what might be his last night on earth.


	2. Legolas

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NECKLACE

Chapter 2 - Legolas

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First of all, thank you all very much for reviewing and being so complimentary - I certainly did not expect such a response to something I wrote in about half an hour while being the perennial insomniac that I am…!

I guess there are a few things about Legolas that would bear closer inspection…so, if you guys want to hear about them, I'm willing to tell them. Herewith the first bit of a re-written "Battle of Helm's Deep". _I'll try to make a story out of it!_

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JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie. None of the battle events or characters detailed in this piece are in any way my property.

Legolas saw Aragorn drop back behind the wall a bare few minutes before the first few arrows lodged, quivering, in the walls behind. He blinked. Orcs with long-bows that seemed tiny in their ugly fists were forming up in ragged lines just below the Deeping Wall.

Despite his normally serene nature, even the elf would have admitted to some quite severe trepidation about the conflict that lay inevitably ahead of them. His eyes swept over the plain. _So many…_

For once, Legolas would have gladly sacrificed his lynx-keen vision. The enemy were foul beyond the reckoning of Men or Elves. Steam rose from their vile bodies as they tramped towards the fortress, and their eyes gleamed yellow and predatory.

Gimli nudged him in the knee.

"I'll start counting when the first ones make it up here," he said.

"If they make it up here," corrected the elf mildly, flicking his bow forward in readiness and plucking absently at the flights of one of his good arrows – half the rest of the collection in his quiver had been gleaned from previous battles, and were a rather motley selection. He glanced over to where Aragorn was now patrolling along the wall, checking the troops.

How could anyone miss it? A king had a certain air about him…something about the way he moved perhaps, wearing the landscape like a second skin. He entered cities like a conquering hero. 

The Ranger, unaware of the scrutiny he was under, was fingering the recently rescued pendant and looking haunted. Legolas looked away, into the massed rank of the enemy, drew back the string, and began his own assault on the army of the White Hand.

Gimli ducked under the swing of an Uruk-Hai sword, caught sight of an elf's distinctive silver-blond hair, and bellowed: "Two dozen, Master Elf!"

The elf turned, and, to Gimli's surprise, was not Legolas. Haldir of Lorien had time enough only to deliver a bemused and disapproving look before the next wave of orcs slammed into the main gate and he turned in a whirl of silver knives to fall back to the inner wall. 

The dwarf followed, reluctantly. Above, Théoden could be heard shouting in a desperate, hoarse rattle for his troops to return to his side. The orcs poured in like bees into a hive, leaving the bodies of Men and Elves in their wake. 

"Gimli!"

The Ranger was abruptly at his side, favouring his left leg and bleeding from a cut on his collar-line. "Where is Legolas? Have you seen him?"

Gimli turned, hamstringing a charging orc soldier, then said: "I have not seen him since the gate was breached."

Aragorn let out a sigh of exasperation. "And Haldir?"

"Up here, Aragorn," came the elf's cry. He and a woeful knot of elven archers were flattened against the battlements, picking off stray orcs as they ran towards the keep. 

Aragorn realised that he was now running on top of the bodies of dead elves, and his face contorted in fury. "Gimli, come with me," he said. "We must protect Théoden. Without him, his people will lose heart."

The dwarf chuckled. "Just so long as I have orc-necks to hew, I will follow you where you wish," he said.

Legolas, finally having run out of arrows, kicked the advancing beast in the throat. It dropped, gurgling. Its fellow, just behind it, snarled out what Legolas presumed was a threat in its own barbaric tongue. The elf curled his lip in disgust and his long knife whickered forward in a deadly arc.

A mantra began to repeat itself in his mind – his heartbeat accelerated until it was a thrumming rhythm in his head and throat. 

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My enemy shall be as nothing in my eyes….they are as unnatural as snow in summer…they shall be as nothing in my eyes…

Slash, stab, cut. Duck, stab, dodge, stab, turn…the rhythm of the battle became almost soothing in a ridiculous manner, fitting in with his racing heartbeat.

It was strangely comforting. And it ensured that he kept his mind focussed on his skills, without losing himself in the rage he knew was very close to the surface.

Pain flared across his upper arm, and the mantra shattered along with his focus. A smaller orc, twisted in body and chattering insanely as it wielded an outsize blade, had managed to land a blow. Now it struggled to swing the weapon again as Legolas, eyes wide in pain and shock, turned upon it. 

For a moment, it seemed that they were alone in the battle-field. The orc managed to lift the sword, and with a harsh cry looked up to make a second attempt on its target. It was just in time to see the elf's eyes narrow again, delicate brows drawing down in fury and expression incandescent with hate.

Legolas's world contracted, the focus of a hawk on a tiny mouse far below. His body shifted stance into a half-crouch: the knife drove forward, perfectly aimed. The small orc, perhaps sensing the sudden, disconcerting change in his opponent, dropped the over-large sword and turned to run. 

It took two steps before Legolas landed on its back in a cat-like pounce and slit its throat. 

Aragorn, half-way into the keep, heard a nearby orc screaming in its death throes. This in itself was not unusual, given the circumstances. It was when the same voice continued its shrieks of agony for several minutes, and was then joined by a ringing elvish battle-cry, that the Ranger suspected all was not as it should be.

"Haldir," he said, snagging the elf by the arm as he passed, "tell me what your elven eyes see down there."

Haldir looked almost irritated at the delay, but glanced out all the same. "I see a party of Uruk-Hai advancing to the broken gate," he said. "I see Eomer and a group of his men retreating…I think they are the last."

"Do you see any of your archers?" Aragorn pursued. 

Haldir leaned further out, and his brow furrowed. "None of mine," he said, "but I do see your companion, prince Legolas."

"He is returning, then," said Aragorn, in relief. The amount of blond-haired bodies he had run past – any of them could have been the Mirkwood elf. But Haldir was shaking his head.

"He is not returning," he said. "He is advancing."

"What?" The Ranger stared at him. "He will be killed!"

Haldir looked him in the eye solemnly. "Then someone will have to go and tell him that," he said. "And for all the respect I hold for you, Lord Aragorn, it will not be me."

Aragorn turned on him in anger. 

"Then I am ashamed for you, my friend," he said, coldly. 

"If you think I fear those foul demons of Saruman, you are mistaken," Haldir replied, unruffled. "But your human eyes cannot see the prince's face, and so I forgive your misapprehension."

He turned and gathered his remaining archers with a curt nod. "I fear nothing short of death will stop your companion now," he said, and headed swiftly for the limited security offered by the inner walls of Helm's Deep. 


	3. Dissension

**NECKLACE**

**Chapter 3 - Dissension**

_If this starts to bore you, just let me know, and I'll stop. ;)_

_If you like it…well, I guess it'd be nice if you let me know that, too…! ^_^_

**JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie. All characters and the battle event described in this piece are their property. **

"He's _what?!"_

Gimli was starting to get a strong feeling of unreality - most unsettling for a dwarf - and he hurried along in Aragorn's wake, pausing only to grab an additional hand-axe from the hand of a nearby corpse. 

Aragorn did not bother to repeat himself. There was neither the time nor the concentration to spare. Theoden and his troops had retreated to the keep. As he and Gimli had slipped out a side door onto the slopes, Aragorn's last view had been of Haldir and two other powerful-looking elves laying their shoulders against the splintering timber frame of the main keep gate to try and make it hold.

The sky seemed still terribly dark. Surely it had to be an hour yet, maybe more, until first light. 

_Gandalf, where are you…?_

"Curse the lad," Gimli was growling, "of all the times he has to choose to get war-happy!"

Aragorn was barely listening: his eyes were searching the battlefield, hoping for some guide. _Come on, my friend, he urged, silently, __if you still breathe in this world, show me where you are…_

And there it was. A sudden, bright flicker as a mane of pale hair whipped around, startling against the sea of dark bodies. Aragorn thumped Gimli on the shoulder and pointed. 

"We have our target. Let's go."

By the time they reached him, Legolas was at bay in a ring of Uruk-Hai. The orcs seemed curiously reluctant to actually attack him, and were hanging back, muttering to each other in their guttural voices. Occasionally one or two would make an attempt on the elf's life. The feel of their friends' heads bouncing off their shins was proving a powerful deterrent to the remaining orcs, but the elf could only retain his advantage for so long. More orcs were beginning to gather, sensing elf-blood about to be spilt. 

Legolas, apparently undaunted by the ridiculous odds, swore at them colourfully in Elvish and tensed, preparing to charge them. 

"Elendil!"

Several Uruk-Hai abruptly vanished under a swing of Aragorn's massive sword-blade. 

Quite a few more suddenly found their knee-caps missing and Gimli staring them in the eye with a look of satisfaction as he brought his axes down for the second time. 

Making the mistake of turning their backs on the elf to face this new assault, two more orcs felt the brief pressure of Legolas' weight on their shoulders before feeling the altogether sharper sensation of a long knife being sheathed in their spines. 

Aragorn, taking opportunity of a lull as the orcs re-grouped, snatched at the elf's arm. "Gimli!" he roared.

The dwarf, chasing a terrified and hopping orc who only had one good foot remaining to him, took heed and about faced, starting the long run back towards Helm's Deep. Aragorn, realising that Legolas still wasn't moving, pulled harder at his sleeve. "Move!" he demanded. "Legolas, are you running mad? There are too many!"

Receiving no response, he made an abortive effort to pick the elf up, bodily, thinking to _carry him from immediate danger, see where he was wounded. He was rapidly disillusioned of that plan as Legolas, eyes blazing, nearly gutted him with a sweep of his blade._

The Ranger let go of the elf, who skidded out of his reach, turned, and faced him with a look so terrible that it could have cowed braver men than Aragorn.

"Legolas," said Aragorn, as gently as he could. "It is I. Aragorn. Are we to be enemies, now?"

The elf said nothing. There was a cold, feral cast to his face that the Ranger had never before seen on one of the Sylvan folk, and his _eyes…._

Dimly, Aragorn thought: _Is this the look that Isildur saw on the face of Elrond as my ancestor turned away from his one chance to destroy the Ring?_

He could well imagine such a look, perhaps fortified even more with disapproval, on the lord of Rivendell's countenance. _Could Arwen ever regard me with such dreadful disdain?_

"Do you even hear me…?" he said, aware all the time of the approaching thunder that was surely new Uruk-Hai footsoldiers, marching in step. From the direction of Helm's Deep, he heard Gimli's voice, shouting. 

The dwarf had seen what Aragorn, in his confusion over Legolas' behaviour, could not. The sun was at last breaking through the grey sky, and towards the fortress, driving orcs like cattle, the White Rider was returning. Gimli raised his axe in salute as the first troops of the Rohirrim ploughed past him and into the enemy. 

The Uruk-Hai were running before the charge of the Riders: all Aragorn saw was a huge orc chieftain heading straight for Legolas who still stood, as if paralysed, with his back turned to it.

"_Legolas!" he cried, as the beast, bellowing in fear, drew back a double-handed mace and made to strike. It was going to be too late. He could already see the mace-end bloodied, see the elf's eyes going blank with death. __Oh, Elbereth, Gilthoniel…_

A horse whickered as it reared up like a shaft of lightning, and the knotted end of a wooden staff made a hollow _thunk as it hit the Uruk-Hai between the eyes, knocking it to the ground. Legolas, seeming to come slightly to his senses, looked up into the face of the rider._

Gandalf did not look pleased with the situation. "Would you mind," he snapped, addressing the Ranger, "explaining just what exactly _this is all in aid of?"_


	4. Ministration

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NECKLACE

Chapter 4 

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Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie.

Yes. I hadn't the heart to kill him off, Mr Jackson. I'm sorry…*pats Haldir on the back reassuringly*

Gandalf dismounted from Shadowfax and strode forward to Aragorn and Legolas, his eyes flicking between the man and the elf in an accusatory fashion. 

"Well?" he growled. "What do you do out here, in the thick of the battle, where you would surely have been killed needlessly? Why are you not defending Theoden and the men of the Mark?"

He turned now, as if sensing something from Aragorn, and glowered at Legolas from under his thick white brows.

"I am looking at _you_, son of Thranduil," he said, evenly. 

Legolas met his gaze steadily: Gandalf was one of few folk in Middle-earth who could look an elf in the eye and not be awed or cowed. The old wizard reached out an arm, snagged the elf's collar, and dragged him forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. Aragorn held his breath. When he had previously laid a hand on Legolas, he had nearly been gutted for his trouble. 

But Legolas never moved. For a long moment he and Gandalf locked eyes, and then the wizard let him go with a long exhalation of breath that sounded like exasperation.

"Old friend," he said, wearily, "take this elf back to the keep and make sure he gets to the healers amongst the people of Rohan."

Aragorn was in the process of stepping forward when he realised that Gandalf was not addressing him. The horse Shadowfax brushed past him, gently, dropping his head to nudge at Legolas's arm. Long white fingers grasped the horse's mane, and Legolas, moving unusually gracelessly for one of his kind, pulled himself up bareback. 

"Go," said Gandalf, softly. Shadowfax made an agreeable equine _hhuh_ sound in his throat, and trotted off towards the Deeping Wall. 

Aragorn turned to him and reached out a hand in greeting.

"We are glad to see you again, Gandalf," he said. "Certainly, I had little hope of holding Helm's Deep had you not returned as you described."

Gandalf's dour expression softened a little. "Did not Haldir of Lorien come to you?"

Aragorn glanced down at his feet: dead orcs and dead elves from the last retreat of Lorien. The wizard followed his look and nodded, slowly. 

"Tell me then," he said, "of what has come to pass with Legolas today that he seems inclined to put his immortality in peril."

Eowyn of Rohan dabbed dutifully at a long, thin cut on one of Haldir's impressively high cheekbones. The elf shifted impatiently under her ministrations, but did not say anything. The shield-maiden felt inclined to slap him. 

As if it was not enough that she was not allowed to fight with her kindred to defend her home from Saruman! Now she was reduced to playing nursemaid to arrogant elves who should be more grateful…it was humiliating.

Haldir shuffled his feet again and sighed. 

"All _right_," snapped Eowyn, rather more harshly than she had intended. "I'm finished. You can go."

He shot out of the chair as if scalded and stalked from the room. Eowyn scowled. 

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Elves!

Made more like cats than people, she thought, watching Haldir prowl out into the corridor and turn left, swiftly. Beautiful, arrogant, deadly if roused. Eowyn had met few of them during her lifetime, but still she could not stomach them. 

"My lady," called one of the guards, "you are needed."

Eowyn turned, caught a glimpse of white-blond hair and was preparing to give Haldir a piece of her mind when she realised that this was Legolas, companion to Lord Aragorn - and he looked exhausted.

"He came in on the White Rider's horse," another guard was saying. Eowyn, looking for injuries, circled the elf, once. One pale hand was clasped across his throat, fingers grasping at his collar.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked him, and, when he did not reply, repeated the question. "My lord - where are you hurt?" 

The elf looked at her with eyes that seemed huge and haunted. _Oh please_, thought Eowyn, watching his fingers grip at the fabric of his collar-line, _please don't let his throat be cut…is that why he will not speak? Lord Aragorn has already lost his lady…let him not lose his friend as well…_

He did not resist when Eowyn enlisted the help of the two Rohirrim to lead him to the nearby couch, and he lay quite still as she gently pulled his fingers away from his neck. To her vast relief, there was no damage hidden there.

"How does he fare?"

Gandalf was stood in the doorway, leaning on his staff. For once, he did look old. His shoulders were slumped with weariness and there was great strain etched in the lines of his face. 

"Not well, Mithrandir," Eowyn said. "But I cannot find a wound to treat, save these few scrapes on his arms."

Gandalf entered and sat down on the edge of the couch, watching the elf, whose eyes were closed. "I do not think his wounds are to be treated by normal means, for they are not normal wounds," he said, and he lifted his staff, laying it across the elf's chest. The wood seemed to glow, faintly in the dim light. Gandalf leant in, very close, and said, gently but firmly: "_Tell me_."

"It was too long ago," said Legolas, in Elvish, sounding tired. His eyes remained closed, and he lay as still as death. "It doesn't matter anymore…"

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Aargh! A cliffhanger..and I swore I'd never write one…but the truth is I have the worst writer's block right now and I hope you don't hate this chapter, because when I read it back it feels disjointed. Please R & R…all reviews read and appreciated. 


	5. Explanation

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NECKLACE

Chapter 5 

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Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie. 

Thank you so much for all your kind reviews! I'm very glad you like the story and have taken time out to tell me so.* **slaps her Muse for giving her writer's block (Raziel says, "Ow")***

Okay *taking a deep breath* here goes. This (I hope) will begin the explanation you've been asking for…

"How old are you?" Gandalf asked, quietly. Legolas paused again before answering. Except for the rise and fall of his chest and his voice, he might have lain there as dead. 

"I have forgotten."

Eowyn had sat down in the chair nearby that Haldir had recently vacated and was watching the dialogue with curious eyes. The talk was mostly in elvish, scattered with broken phrases in the common speech. 

"What is your name?"

"Legolas…"

"Your mind is troubled. What are you thinking of?" Gandalf prodded, gently.

This time the elf moved, shifting his shoulders against the couch. "There are waves, crashing…the air is full of salt…"

"Enough!" snapped Gandalf, swiftly: then, as if relenting, he laid a hand on Legolas's arm for a moment. "We will not think of that now," he said, "there will be other times for you to think of it. Now. Tell me. What do you keep tied at your throat?"

"The necklace," said Legolas, immediately. 

"It is not there now," Gandalf said, keeping his tone steady, his gaze fixed on the elf's face. 

Legolas's hand suddenly twitched, and his nails dug into the couch's wooden slats. "Yara! Look out!"

"Yara! Look out!"

The girl, tall and with a mane of dark hair, turned at his shout.

"What is it?" she demanded, trying to sound irritated, although her half-smile belied it. "You do this merely to torment me. Go away."

Legolas landed on a tree-branch just above her head, skinning bark-chips with his heels. 

"Look out," he teased, "you might get hit with a handful of acorns…"

The afore-mentioned acorns peppered her shoulders as she tried to duck. 

"Oh, you _are_ in a lot of trouble now -" 

She bent swiftly, scooped up half the nuts and gave chase, trying to grab his collar and put them down his neck. He was too quick. 

"Stand still and be properly punished, you," Yara gasped, twisting to try and keep him in sight as he vanished up a nearby spruce before she had a chance to even grab at his ankle. 

The chase might have continued for several minutes yet - elves are playful creatures in less harrowing times - had not the voice of Legolas' father interrupted it. 

"Legolas!"

The trees of Southern Mirkwood seemed to echo. A few birds scattered from the tree canopy. Below, both the girl and her quarry came to an abrupt halt. 

"Your father," was Yara's considered opinion, "could be heard from here to Minas Morgul if he wanted to be."

"Hush. Talking of that place here?" Legolas grinned. "His _hearing_ is superb also. He might be displeased."

"Legolas!"

More birds fled the immediate trees in a clatter of wings. The elf looked up into the sky. It had been an uninterrupted blue, as befitted summer in an elf-wood. Now, it was dull, and darkening towards the east.

A feeling of blackness crept into Legolas' mind like a slug entering a rose. Something was coming, and none of it felt good or clean. 

He looked across at Yara. Being mortal, she could not feel it the way he could. But she saw some of his fear reflected in his eyes, and without asking, she turned and ran.

Lupa, Yara's older sister, was waiting for them at the edge of the clearing as they ran in together. She was more powerfully built than her sister, and her hair more red, but the similarity between them was obvious. Like Yara, Lupa wore at her throat a leather thong clasping a wolf's claw - the symbol of her family. 

"Legolas," she said, and her voice was harsh with exertion. "Your father says you are to follow him as swiftly as you can. Be fully armed."

She handed him his bow, and gave him arrows from her own quiver. Legolas took them, noting in passing that Lupa's tunic was torn, and her short sword missing from its scabbard. His eyes met hers for a brief second, questioning.

"Go quickly," she said, stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. A horse gave an answering whinny from somewhere nearby in the trees. "Yara, come with me. We're heading back to Beorn's."

"What's happenening?" Legolas asked, hearing even as the words left his mouth the singing of elven-bows from the eastern woods. "Are we under attack? Lupa, _tell me_."

Her eyes were blank and frightened, and he noticed for the first time the blood leaking from a slim cut on her brow. 

"I cannot tell you," she said. "Such malevolence is beyond my words."

"I'm not going," Yara protested. "I have my knives. Legolas has been teaching me…"

Lupa caught the bridles of the two bay horses that came trotting into the glade, and thrust one set of reins at her sister, meaningfully. Yara mounted with bad grace. 

Lupa, already in the saddle and patting her lathering horse, gave Legolas a last backward look. 

"Why are you still here?" she said, almost sadly - then kicked the beast in the flanks and cantered away, Yara following. 

When Legolas reached his father's side, the damage was already done. 

"Legolas!" Thranduil shouted, crashing through a bank of bracken. "This way! Hurry!"

"Father, where are we going?"

"There are foul beasts in my forest!" The older elf was almost speechless with fury. "In _my_ forest!"

Legolas stepped on something that did not feel like a log: looked down, and looked into the dead yellow eyes of an orc. It was both the ugliest, and the strangest thing he had ever seen. He drew his foot back in a hurry, staring.

"What - what is this?" he asked, as several Mirkwood archers sprinted past him, bows drawn. 

Thranduil paused in his pursuit to answer his son, and his tone was heavy with worry. "They have kidnapped our people," he said. "They came out of the river. I cannot believe they were not spotted."

"Kidnapped? How many?"

The older elf sank down onto a fallen tree, his bow loose in his hands. 

"At least thirty. Maybe more."

Legolas started forward instantly. "Then we must follow them - rescue them - father, please -"

The elf-king stood, wearily. "I have never seen so many of these creatures," he said. "There has been no word from the borders, from Osgiliath…why have they come for my people?"

There were shouts and the sound of sword-strokes from just ahead. Legolas shot down two of the beasts who were lagging from the main group as they tried to pass him. His mind was racing.

__

The question is not "why have they come for my people", Father…the question is, why do they** take** them and not kill them where they stand?

A horse whickered in terror, and the elves turned to see Lupa galloping toward them, her steed rolling-eyed and dark with sweat.

"Have you seen her?" she demanded, forcing the horse to circle to try and calm it. "Yara, have you seen her?"

"I thought she had followed you…"

"She did," Lupa snapped, grabbing the pommel as her horse reared. "But the stupid girl broke away from me before we reached the main path. I _know_ she was coming back here to fight."

Legolas grabbed the horse's bridle: amid Lupa's protests that the creature was exhausted, he swung up in front of her and rode forward.

"If she dies," Lupa said fiercely against his back as they jolted towards the sounds of battle, "I will hold _you_ responsible, prince of Mirkwood."

Before Legolas could reply, the horse, in a frenzy of panic as it found itself surrounded by orcs, threw them both. 

"And then what happened?" said Gandalf, quietly. It had been over an hour since Legolas had begun his tale, and Aragorn was now stood beside Eowyn's chair, listening, his right arm swathed in a supporting sling.

"When I looked up," Legolas said, in the common tongue this time, "Lupa was knelt in the leaf litter a few yards hence, and she was weeping…"

In Lupa's hand was the twisted leather necklace that Yara had been wearing. She clasped it to herself, tears welling up in her pale eyes. Yara's horse lay slaughtered beside her…but there was no corpse to account for its rider. 

As Legolas approached Lupa to offer her what comfort he could, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, the remains of the Mirkwood troops returning to their king. The chase was obviously lost, and the enemy fled or killed. 

Lupa looked up at him, and her face had no forgiveness in it. She stood, in a sharp, hurried motion, and thrust the necklace at him. Her fist slammed into his chest.

"Here," she said. "Take it. I want you to have it, because I want you to remember. _You killed her_. She always loved you elves. She thought you were wise and beautiful. Well -" and she reached out, snagging her horse's reins - " _I_ don't think that. She loved you, Legolas, because she thought she saw in you something good and great that was so much more than a mortal could ever have."

The horse, neck hanging in exhaustion, responded to its rider's command by shambling into a trot. 

"Farewell, Prince," Lupa called back over her shoulder. "Travel to the Havens - and do it soon…"

Legolas was left standing alone by Yara's fallen pony, and by the time his father caught up with him, he had clasped the wolf's claw pendant so hard in his fist that blood was coursing sluggishly through his knuckles. 

__

*sits back and takes a break* Please let me know how you think this is progressing. This isn't all of the story, by any means!! But I'm now off to get a drink, so I'll continue soon…


	6. Evolution

**NECKLACE**

**Chapter 6**

**_Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie._**

_I'm going to take time out before the main feature to respond to a few of your reviews, because they're all greatly appreciated *hands out photos of Legolas, Aragorn & Haldir to all who have read and reviewed…take your pick of the guys!!* _

**_Syvia_**_ - Yes, that Lupa! She gets about a bit, doesn't she…the Nexus gates lead everywhere…*hugs you for coming out of LegacyofKainLand to read this story*_

**_PuterPatty_**_- *grins* My muse has been a little preoccupied of late kicking Sarafan ass. I did have some doubts about the use of that word, but went with it anyway. *hugs* I love reading your reviews…they're always really helpful & encouraging!_

**_Daydream _**_- *Legolas smiles at you* If you think he's worried about a little slap? Man, he must HATE me, all the mean things I keep having happen to him ^_^_

**_EmeraldQuee_**_n – Haldir's rarely grateful. Pretty. But not grateful.*grins*_

**_Rosie_**_ – Thank you! (and to everyone who loved to see Haldir still breathing…some things are too good to kill off!!)_

_And to **Mouse, BamfBabe, musicgrl-1989, klepto-maniac0, Lady Leila** (oops…is this another cliffhanger or not?!) **Jay of Lasgalen, Just Jill, Elven Warrior, Damn The Torpedoes, daw, Mara Aoife, White Wolf, JadeGoddess, PsychoGoddess, GreyLadyBast, Slea, bearleft, TattyCat, Sami & WinterPlum **(You want a copy? See what I can do…!) - *smiles to you all* Thank you so much for reading and letting me know you like the story. And thankyou to those who put this under favourites! *looks at the above list* Wow…hope I didn't forget anyone…_

_Now. This is just a little bit more to keep you going, seeing as I'm off now for a couple of days. Enjoy! ^_^_

Time seemed to pass slowly for many years afterwards (Legolas was continuing, as Eowyn handed Gandalf and Aragorn cups of water to drink) and the Shadow continued to grow in Middle-earth. Lupa did not return to the paths of Mirkwood, although Legolas listened often for the jingling of the copper harness on her pony. He even thought he saw her one night, running with Beorn under the stars on the edges of the trees - but there may be many wild wolves and bears in a forest, and who could pick out Lupa and Beorn from amongst them?

The orcs did not return, and neither did their captives. Thranduil's court mourned their losses grievously - some of the elves taken had been from the oldest and most respected families amongst their kind. Immortality can lead to a certain complacency - the knowledge that save injury or heartbreak, _you will endure_ - and Thranduil's family were as guilty of this as any elf still walking under Middle-earth sky. 

But now they were jaded, cautious. Thranduil ordered his borders heavily guarded. Any folk who strayed into the forest were dealt with sharply, and with great suspicion. 

As for Legolas himself, he strung the wolf's claw about his own neck and took his turns on guard duty alongside what remained of the Mirkwood troops. His fellows commented that he was sullen - some even inferred, in whispers when they thought Thranduil was out of earshot, that the king's son had been touched by the shadow. But his draw with the bow was as supernaturally quick as ever it had been, better, even, and his eyes were still bright. 

It happened one day, a decade or more after Yara had vanished from Middle-earth, that Legolas was leading a scout party out into the eastern copses. A warning had come from a passing Ranger that something had been seen creeping about the river, something vile. Something that was certainly not elf nor man nor dwarf nor hobbit…

The two archers at Legolas's side began to edge forward at his nod. There were three more spread out in the forest behind him, and a further two up in the canopy on watch. 

Legolas, his keen eyes scanning the undergrowth, began to feel the same apprehension as he had before the orcs attacked. He had always been gifted with an uncanny ability to sense danger, even more than the rest of his kin. This felt different, somehow, though - dark, and evil, but tinged with sadness…

A bow-string sang out - one of the archers ahead had spotted something that did not belong in this part of the world. Legolas sprang forward, ready for battle. _If it should be more orcs_…his blood pounded through his head fiercely. He brushed branches and bushes aside, moving almost clumsily in his haste, and practically fell out into a little glade where two tall elves held a terrified, lurching creature in their sights, bow-strings straining at full draw. 

They only awaited his command. And he could not give it.

Gandalf lowered his head sadly, and took his pipe from his mouth.

"It was her," he said, "was it not?"

Legolas made no reply. His eyes were still closed, a sure sign of an elf in less than good health, and his fingers were knotted compulsively in the soft leather of his jerkin.

"Legolas," the old wizard prompted, very gently.

A single tear wound its way from under one closed eyelid and streaked across the elf's pale skin. 

"She had no eyes," he said, in a shadow of his former voice. "Only hollows. And I remember that I thought -"

Legolas dropped to his knees in front of the beast, which whimpered in fear and tried to hide under its own ragged clothes. _Perhaps it is better_, the remaining, reasoning part of his mind thought, _perhaps it is better that they took her eyes from her. For now she cannot see what a travesty her body has become…_


	7. Haldir

**NECKLACE**

**Chapter 7**

**_Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie. All characters and situations, save Lupa and Yara, are copyright to them. _**

_Thank you once again for all your reviews. You really make my day! *hands out vouchers for "Legolas Hugs" to all who would like them, and a special "Aragorn Hug" voucher to The Deville's Dog* (has he come out from behind your sofa yet wolf?!) And to __Aithilin , thankyou for reviewing. I'm sorry you thought it was boring. Hang on…what am I doing? If you thought chapter one was dull, you sure as hell won't have read this far…!_

_For those of you who've stuck with it, please read on…_

The beast before him gave a keening cry of terror and cringed away from the two tall archers. The elven bow-men kept their gaze fixed mercilessly upon it, eyes hard and glittering. They were quite ready to make a quick end for the creature. 

Legolas snapped out a command and the archers stood down. Blind eye-sockets turned now to him, seeking to see what new dread had come upon it.

The rags of Yara's once-bright clothes still clung to mottled, sunken flanks. Her clan tattoo, dull now, could still be traced on her upper arm. Legolas, almost shuddering, reached out a long white hand and drew one finger along the ragged spiral mark.

_It really is you…what have they tried to turn you into…?_

The creature snarled and swiped at him with a misshapen claw of a hand. Legolas dodged, easily.His two companions, despite his previous order, drew and aimed.

_Oh, Yara, you used to be able to almost catch me._

She rumbled a warning in her throat and shambled away from him. It was then he saw the open, weeping sores on her chest, and the wounds, clumsily stitched and poorly healed, that decorated most of her body. 

"Yara," he said, and the blind head swayed from side to side as she tried to locate him. "Don't you know me?"

Crouching low to match her crawling height, he approached. 

"It is I, Legolas…"

Three long claws whipped out, snagged the pendant at his neck and grazed a thin line of blood across his throat. The necklace itself, severed, came away in the twisted paw.

The creature grasped at the leather, dangled the wolf-claw over its ruined face, and began to croon to itself, a thin, miserable sound like hungry kittens. 

It was only when Legolas leant in closer that he realised that she was crying. 

"Prince," prompted one of the archers, "what would you have us do?"

"Stand back," Legolas growled, in so severe a tone that the two guards exchanged a suspicious and concerned glance. "She is already dying. You will not be required."

The beast gave a choking howl of misery and clutched the wolf-claw into its gnarled palm. Legolas said: "Calm now. Be still…" and he drew one of his long knives from its sheath as he crept forward. 

He could smell her now, the stench of her. His initial judgement had been correct - she stank of death from a dozen cuts. She was in pain, and her life was swiftly failing. Drawing back his blade over her hunched, malformed shoulders, he could hear, in memory, Lupa's voice saying: _I want you to remember. You killed her._

"No," he whispered, and drove the blade down with all his elvish strength and speed behind it. 

The beast that had been Yara squalled like a skewered horse, and fell forward onto its blind face in the dirt. Legolas sat down heavily beside her body, pulling the knife free. 

_I have not killed you, my friend_, he thought, trying to compose himself as the guards watched him with cautious eyes, _you were dead the moment they took you from me. _

_But I swear to you, I will not fail you again._

He reached out towards the creature's clenched fist, meaning to take back the necklace, when there was a growl from the ferns nearby. Wolf's eyes glared at him, luminous and amber, and the two elf archers exclaimed at the sight of a looming bear's shadow in the trees behind. 

The wolf lunged forward, shouldering Legolas out of the way. 

"Hold!" he ordered as bow-strings bent to shoot at the animal. "If the wolf dies I will kill you both myself, do you understand?"

The two archers stared at him as if he were running rabid. There would be a great deal of talk in Mirkwood that night regarding the Prince's behaviour. Legolas, oblivious, was watching as the wolf nuzzled open the creature's fist, took up the claw in its teeth, and vanished into the forest, the bear following. 

"Lupa!" Legolas cried.

_You do not need to feel accountable anymore_, said a cold voice in his mind._ You have killed my sister twice now. I think you have done enough. _

Eowyn, standing to fetch more bandages (one of the wounds on Legolas's arm had reopened, and needed attention) noticed a figure standing in the doorway. She stared, mouth already open to question his presence. Haldir of Lorien held one long finger up to his lips, as if to say, _I was not here_ - then turned silently on his heel and was gone, his mane of pale hair seeming to shine in the dim interior of the keep. 

Eowyn sniffed in disapproval. _How rude. _Sneaking about like that in the corridors…she bridled with righteous indignation. _Who does he think he is?_

"Lady," called Aragorn, and Eowyn, remembering her patient, returned hurridly to his side. Legolas was curled up in a tight, feline ball, his face hidden from view by his arms. Gandalf carefully reached out to retrieve his staff. 

"It has been like drawing poison from a snake-bite," was the old wizard's opinion. "I think that when he wakes he will at least be calmer and less likely to snap like a wild dog at those who are his friends."

He looked now at the Ranger, whose brow was furrowed with worry. 

"What was it that they did to the girl?" he asked, his voice rough with anger. Gandalf scowled darkly from under his thick brows. 

"Elves were not the only ones to suffer mutilation and torture at the hands of the Dark Lord," he said, softly. "However, they were the only ones whose bodies proved strong enough to be of any use to Him. Mortals…humans, skin-changers and the like, are too fragile."

The Ranger looked abruptly sickened, and Gandalf relented.

"And _you_ should be resting," he went on, firmly. "Legolas is in no danger, and I am sure the lady Eowyn will tend to his hurts."

Aragorn looked sceptical, but turned obediently and walked from the room, intending to go and check on the remaining horses. 

The small stabling block in the caves was full of the heat of tired horses, and smelt pleasantly of hay. Aragorn walked in and was pleased to see Brego amongst them, champing at a mouthful of corn ears and resting his weight on his near forefoot. The Ranger laid one hand on the beast's neck, petting. 

_Even the animals seem to sense that we have won this one_, he thought. _They take comfort in that. Why cannot I do the same?_

The straw in the stalls was looking quite inviting as a bed. Brego moved over as Aragorn sat down on a nearby bale and leant back against the wooden partition, closing his eyes. Now he could allow himself to be weary, to feel the ache of battle in his shoulders. 

He was just on the edge of dream when a slight sound from one of the stalls made him blink and look up. An elf was leading a saddle-less horse out into the caves, one hand pressed gently to the horse's shoulder, and speaking softly in elvish into the horse's ear. 

Aragorn sat upright in surprise, but made no sound. 

_Not just any elf…_

Haldir swung himself up onto the horse's back, leaning low to avoid the ceiling. 

_…and not just any horse…_

Shadowfax put his head down and trotted serenely forward, hooves ringing on the stone.

_Am I dreaming?_ thought Aragorn, springing to his feet and hurrying in pursuit. _Where is he going?_

By the time he reached the smoky haze and rubble of the Deeping Wall, Haldir and his steed were heading west, and picking up speed. Shadowfax could run like no other horse in Middle-earth: he was a rapidly receding spot of white light on the plains of Rohan. 

"Do not concern yourself, son of Arathorn," said Gandalf's voice from behind him. The wizard was sat on half of a broken gate-post, smoking his long-stemmed pipe. "Go now, as I told you, and rest. Haldir will return, given time, and I expect us to be keeping council at Helm's Deep for at least a full week."

_*does her "not a cliff-hanger" (well…not really) dance*_

_Please R & R. Legolas and I need a little TLC!!_


	8. Lupa

**NECKLACE**

**Chapter 8**

**_Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movie. All characters, save Lupa and Yara, are copyright to them._**

_*digs around in her closet* I'm running out of good things to give you guys when you review..aha…*Raziel hands out copies of "The Fellowship of the Ring - The EXTRA Director's Cut (with ~more~ character development) DVD*_

_Once again, I'd like to offer a few responses to you, the reviewers:_

_Shadow975 – thankyou for your detailed and positive review!! I'm glad I'm not suffering too badly from fangirlishness. I have no idea whether Legolas's mantra has basis anywhere else…it just came into my head!_

_PuterPatty – yes, Lupa is a shifter. *hugs* riveting, huh? You're too kind ^_^_

_Mouse – Legolas does angst well, drama better! Thankyou!_

_Bamfbabe – Read on and find out…_

_Enigma Jade – I'm just glad you found it and enjoyed it!_

_Syvia - *hugs* Naww…he's not a softie…not really *waves at a sulky-looking Haldir*_

_Lady Leila – You're welcome. He's a nice boy…he has hugs for everyone._

_Rosie - *gasps* You can't find ANY flaw? I'm very flattered, but sceptical!! Thanks so much for reviewing. _

_Daydream - *Legolas gives you his best soulful look* Yes. A wolf-shifter. _

_Pure Luck - *smiles* Welcome! Thankyou for reading and reviewing, I'm glad you liked it!_

_Guardian of Tears – *chuckles* So you followed me and Raz too, huh? *hugs* No, it's not the same Yara…that cheetah-kid was named for the Yara that dies though._

_Phew! Okay…let's continue…_

Gimli was outside on the plateau when Haldir returned, over eight days later. 

The process of clearing the debris of battle was a long and arduous task, but the dwarf had volunteered himself without hesitation. Aragorn, though his arm was healing well, was often occupied in conference with Gandalf, and Legolas…

Gimli dragged another blond-haired elf corpse clear of a pile of dead Uruk-Hai. The elf's body was nearly sliced in two.

_Legolas would not have been strong enough to bear this._

_Or else_, Gimli thought, _he would perhaps have been _too_ strong, and I would have found myself in the way of a rage-blind elf…_

There was a metallic scraping sound from above on the Deeping Wall. Legolas had emerged from the keep and was perched on a pile of rubble, whetting his knives. 

"Hoy, Master Elf!" Gimli hailed him, and Legolas's head whipped up sharply. "It is good to see you about in the clean air!"

Legolas's eyebrow twitched up momentarily in what could well have been amusement: the aftermath of battle is hardly likely to clarify the air. He made no reply, merely continued drawing the blades smoothly across the whetstone. 

"If you make those any sharper," Gimli commented, after having watched this performance out of the corner of his eye for some twenty minutes, "they are like to wear away thinner than cobwebs, and then what use will they be in war?"

Legolas stopped sharpening and stood, abruptly. It was an overcast day, and watery sunlight was filtering through the cloud-cover. The newly-sharpened blades gleamed like light on water as he brought them about in a wide arc, apparently testing that the balance and weight were not affected. 

Gimli dropped a pile of Uruk-Hai armour on his foot, and swore loudly. Helmets clanged away cheerfully amongst the rocks. 

"Would you like some help?" 

The elf's voice filtered down from above, sounding, to Gimli's ears at least, slightly condescending. 

"I can handle this, thank you!" he bellowed, scrabbling to catch hold of a toppling mace. 

Legolas dropped down from his perch with all his usual grace returned to him, and strolled through the ranks of bodies and piles of broken wood as calmly as if he were out for a starlight walk in Rivendell. One hand caught the mace by the haft: the other steadied the pile of shields and assorted elvish bows that Gimli had piled on his arms. 

"I said, I will manage!" Gimli said, gruffly, but in truth he was pleased to see the Mirkwood elf behaving normally again. It had been a hard few days, while Legolas recovered slowly in the dimness of the breached fortress, and sometimes Gimli had entertained doubts that there would ever be the same joy in his friend's eyes or the same lightness in his step : but here he was!

Legolas straightened the unruly pile of bows and stepped away to allow Gimli room to carry them past, and his gaze fell upon the fallen body of an Uruk-Hai chief. 

Gimli heard the abrupt scream of blade on blade, and turned very fast, axe lifted, ready for a fight: but there was only Legolas, knives in hand, and the severed head of the dead orc rocking gently in its new place on the ground. 

"I believe," said the dwarf, very slowly and carefully, "that _that_ one was already dead, Master Legolas…"

Legolas's back was still turned to him. The twin knives made a humming sound as they whipped in his grasp, cutting the air. He looked now to another foul corpse, to his left, and Gimli frowned as limbs were removed with almost surgical precision. This was by no means a healthy obsession. The dwarf was about to try and lure Legolas away from the bodies with some taunt, when a horse's whinny echoed across the plains, and the pounding of hooves announced the return of Shadowfax and his rider. 

Haldir rode right past them without a glance. Even he looked weary after his journey, his shoulders hunched as he grasped the white mane with one hand. His quiver was empty, and there were new gashes in his armour. Shadowfax now seemed impatient to be rid of his burden, and he increased his speed as Helm's Deep drew near. 

A nondescript bay horse - small enough almost to be a long-legged pony - with bright copper discs on its harness that rang together as the reins slapped against its neck came galloping over the rise several minutes behind the lord of horses. Its rider was wrapped in a grey cloak from Lothlorien, and carried a short sword strapped to the saddle-pommel. 

Aragorn, alerted by a shout from a guard of the Mark, came out onto the terrace as Haldir dismounted from Shadowfax and was leaning against the horse's shoulder, murmuring something to the beast. 

"Haldir, my friend," Aragorn said, in Elvish. "You have been gone many days. How great was the need that Shadowfax himself would carry you?"

"It was by my specific wish," said Gandalf, before the elf could answer. The old wizard was watching the progress of the second rider up to the Deeping Gate with narrowed eyes. "Shadowfax will carry no-one unless he wishes it. And I asked him, on the strength of our long friendship, to take Haldir with all speed back to Lorien. He was not best pleased," he added, with almost mischevious glance at Haldir, who ignored the implied slight. "But I see he has carried out his quest in full. Thank you." And he placed a large hand on the horse's muzzle. Shadowfax huffed, seemingly pleased.

"I went," Haldir said, in answer to Aragorn, "to seek out some answers. I believe that I have found them…"

The bay pony skittered to a halt at the breached gate, breathing hard. Its rider sprang down from the saddle and strode up to stand before Aragorn on the wall. She drew aside the grey cowl and met the Ranger's gaze with tired, grey-green eyes.

She was not fair or slender enough to be of elven-blood, although she was dressed in elvish clothes: her hair was coppery-red under the new sunlight, with only a few streaks of grey to show her age, and her body showed evidence of hardship bourne over many years. As Aragorn stared at her she bowed, formally, not curtseying as would a lady of the court, but showing honour from one warrior to another. 

"Hail, Aragorn, son of Arathorn," she said, and smiled. Her teeth were very white. 

Aragorn inclined his head in recognition, seeing, behind the woman, Legolas and Gimli walking in from the battle-field. Legolas's face upon beholding her was a mask of horror, and it was then that Aragorn knew who stood before him.

"Welcome to Helm's Deep, Lupa of Mirkwood," he said, trying to keep his voice level. "Come. I will take you to the king."

"I was under the impression that I already stood before the king," said Lupa, wryly, "but I would welcome a chance to rest. It is a long way from Lorien, and my horse could not hope to keep pace with one of the _Meoras_."

Her head lifted as if she scented the air, then she said: "Legolas…"

Behind her, the elf's shoulders straightened as if called to attention. Gandalf put a hand on her shoulder, and, speaking to her but looking at Legolas, he said: "You are tired. We will go inside, where there is food and water. Then there will be time to speak…"

"_What_ is she?" Gimli muttered as he stumped along the corridor at Aragorn's side. Gandalf and Lupa were walking ahead, Legolas flanking them closely like an honour guard. "She is no elf, that is certain. But there is a look in her eyes that reminds me of something not human, and she catches scent from the air like a common beast!"

"What makes you certain she is no elf, Master Gimli?" asked Aragorn, amused by the dwarf's vehemence and open to teasing him slightly. The dwarf chuckled. 

"She is _plain_," he said. "Good, of course, and gracious, no doubt, but she does not possess beauty such as the Lady of the Wood…"

"Hush! Hasty words," came Gandalf's ringing voice from up ahead: he had paused to wait for them. "Say only that she is…a _furrier_, Gimli son of Gloin, and be content with that. Did not your father ever tell you of the time he spent with Beorn of Mirkwood?"

!! 


	9. Confrontation

****

NECKLACE

Chapter 9

**__**

Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movies. All characters, save Lupa, are their property. Lupa is one of my creations…and she gets about a bit…

__

*hands out more vouchers for Legolas-hugs…Legolas looks worried* This is just a short bit I got to writing when bored. I'm bored a lot, by the way! Thank you so much for all your reviews. I'll try and reply to some of them in the next (and final) chapter…

"I saw you," said Lupa, quietly, her voice deadened by the vastness of the keep. Legolas stood silent before her, his head slightly bowed. "I saw you, and I thought, oh, how unfair…you haven't aged a day…"

Legolas allowed himself a quick smile. Lupa herself had also changed remarkably little, save the slight dulling of her hair (and who knew if the silver strands were due to age or her bestial alter-ego?) and still appeared reasonably young by mortal standards. They were now alone together in Helm's Deep, Gandalf having tactfully shepherded Aragorn and the others from the room some moments previously.

"And then I thought," Lupa continued, starting to pace around him with soft footsteps, "I wonder if he remembers me? After all, I am no elf-maiden, sworn to capture an elf-prince's heart for my own…"

"I am hurt," said Legolas, his minor amusement fading, "that you would think I could forget. I took a good life that day. One who should have lived more joyfully, even in these darker days."

Lupa gave him a look that threatened knives. 

"Thank you for reminding me," she said, icily. "I ran from Mirkwood when Beorn wished to stay and fight. I could not. And so I came to Lothlorien, where Galadriel's archers nearly skewered me before I could get a word out."

"You have been to the Golden Wood?"

"I have, and stayed with the consent of its lady. Lothlorien is still safe haven against the enemy, and will remain so until Celeborn takes his people and departs this world forever. And it was there that Haldir of Lorien found me."

To his surprise, she chuckled. "I felt so important!" she said. "Me, Lupa of Mirkwood, whose life has not yet been of any real consequence to anyone, and an elf-lord riding one of the horse-legends of old comes galloping into the wood searching for me! I thought I was becoming part of a legend myself…"

"Perhaps you are," said Legolas, thinking of all the adventures he had been subjected to since his fate had become entwined with that of the One Ring. _Have I brought her into this dreadful task as well? Am I going to be responsible for another innocent life lost…?_

Lupa was looking at him oddly, as if she had momentarily forgotten who he was: still pacing, her eyes flicked to his bandaged wounds.

" I was almost crazy when I left you in that glade," she said. "I rode so far and so fast that my pony nearly collapsed under me. So I left him wandering in the Wild, and took my other shape so I could still run away from you."

"I do not blame you for hating me that much," said the elf, sadly. 

"I ran to the borders of the Shire, and there I turned back. The little folk," Lupa interrupted her own narrative with amusement, "they do not care much for big people, and still less for wolves. So I turned and went back to my forest, and to Beorn, who was sorely grieved at the thought that I had run away. And there I stayed, until a scant few weeks ago."

Legolas thought briefly of Haldir's hard, unforgiving expression, imagining the tall elf confronting the skin-changer in the haven of Lorien. 

"Haldir went all that way to find you? Why?"

Again that odd look of dislocation in Lupa's eyes. "He told me what happened to you," she said, changing the subject. "Actually, he said he thought you had turned mad."

"Did he," said Legolas, flatly, making a mental note to have a word with Haldir later. "In that case I am sorry to disappoint you. You must have relished the idea that I had become a witless fool."

Lupa reached out with one long hand and jabbed him hard in the middle of one of the bandages. Legolas managed not to yelp. 

"That's for being a fool," she said as he stared at her with huge, accusatory eyes, "but not for being a witless one. What Haldir told me ensured that I would come to you. Do you really think that I am so hardened against you that I would be happy knowing you had lost yourself in rage?"

Legolas had nothing to say to that - the memory of his rage-blindness was very strong. He shuddered, and looked away from her.

"I do not know you anymore," he said, eventually. 

"Evidently," said Lupa, with a degree of satisfaction, "or you would not make such an assumption."

She stopped pacing and took his forearms in her large, callused hands. 

"Oh, Legolas," she said, sadly. "I think we've both been too angry for too long…and you - you weren't meant to be like that. At least I am mortal…I have an excuse…"

That made him smile at least. Lupa rested her forehead against his and said: "And I, with my mortal mind, am empowered to forget where I cannot perhaps ever completely forgive."

Her hand moved down to clasp his - then she pulled away, eyes shining with mischief. In his hand lay a wolf-claw necklace. Legolas glanced to Lupa's neck, but her own necklace still hung over her collar. She winked at him, teasing.

"Why - why are you giving me this?" he asked. "This is Yara's, is it not?"

"It is," Lupa agreed. "But I know that she would have wanted you to have it. She _loved_ you. Did you even know?"

His expression was eloquent. "Didn't think so," Lupa said. She took the necklace from his unresisting hand and tied it swiftly about his throat. "Keep it. And when you fight, remember her life, and not the way she died. That way, I suspect you will fight with more fervour and less anger."

She pulled her short sword from its sheath and took up a crouch before him. "Now, son of Thranduil," she taunted, "show me this orc-rage. I have a mind to let you see how much I have learnt since we last went sparring together!"

__

Thanks for reading! Last chapter up as soon as I can manage. ^_^


	10. Farewell

**NECKLACE**

**Chapter 10**

**_Disclaimer: JRR Tolkein wrote the books: New Line Cinema made the movies. All characters in Middle-earth, save Lupa, belong to them. _**

_First a few responses to you, the readers:_

_ Ithilien - *hugs for you* Thank you so much for coming to read and I'm glad you liked it. I must admit I can sometimes live in fear of The Attack of Mary-Sue!!_

_Guardian – Yeah, kick Elfie, eh? *hugs*_

_Rosie & Kleptomaniac0 – I'm very happy you approve of my little Lupa. She's quite the people person, but not one to mess with!!_

_Daydream - *Legolas grabs his necklace back and pouts*_

_PuterPatty__ – My Muse and I struggled with that line for quite some time. *dances* I'm SO pleased you think it came out right!_

_Jay of Lasgalen - *grins* Angst? Moi?*chuckles at the quote from The Hobbit* I loved that bit…_

_Karo__ - *waves* Greetings from the __UK__!_

_Thanks also out to C.R., Mouse, musicgrl, Syvia (aargh…crossovers…*collapse in small heap*) and everyone else for reviewing. *hugs*_

_This is the final chapter in this interlude of the War of the Ring. I'm sad that it's over now, because it's been fun to write and you've all been great & supportive in reviewing. *hands out one final set of vouchers - "One free Return Ticket for the reviewer to Middle-earth, non-exchangeable, non-refundable. Choose to stay in Mirkwood, Rivendell, Lothlorien, Gondor or the Shire with the host of your choice - Aragorn, Legolas, Frodo, Elrond or Haldir"*_

_I hope to write another LOTR piece some time soon (or Legolas will get bored!)...I have a big original project on the back burner that's awaiting my attention, too… Until next time then- namarie! ^_^ I will continue to be here, reading everyone else's stories…_

Lupa and Legolas came sparring out of the keep - much to the disgust of Gimli, who was still nursing a slight head wound, but in truth was much more concerned about the notches in his beloved axe. Sword rang on long-knife: the wolf-girl laughed as she twisted and swiped at the elf, pulling her blows neatly.

"Is this what passes for chivalrous behaviour amongst elves, Master Legolas?" Gimli demanded, as a well-placed elvish boot had Lupa sprawling in the rubble. Lupa rolled and her leg shot out - Legolas tripped and ended up sat opposite her in the dirt. 

Then Gimli laughed, out loud. "I like your style, my lady!" he said to Lupa, who was sheathing her sword and grinning. "You can come and fight with us at any time."

Legolas regained his feet swiftly, looking slightly put out: like cats, elves are accustomed to landing surely and gracefully with both heels to the ground. But he held out his hand to Lupa to help her to her feet. 

"I see you are feeling better," said Gandalf, from behind them. He had come up, as he often did, unannounced and wreathed in blue smoke from his pipe. "That is all for the best. We ride for Isengard as soon as we can. I hear strange tales out of the Old Forest, and I feel that Saruman is overdue a visit from me."

The determined set of his shoulders seemed to emphasize his new white robes. 

"Saruman," said Lupa, "is no longer the only White Wizard that roams Middle-earth."

She glanced across at the mild amusement in the old wizard's eyes. "I hear that he has ravaged ancient woodlands. The beasts that fled from the grounds of Isengard tell fearful tales of burning and ruin."

"He will yet live to regret his despoiling of trees," said Gandalf, darkly, and Legolas gave him an odd look. "Come now. Theoden waits upon us at supper."

Aragorn, sitting at Theoden's right, felt a strong sense of satisfaction as he looked down the long table at the people gathered there. The last time he had seen this table, it had been upended and shoved against an interior door, with Haldir and several Rohirrim leaning their shoulders against it - now Haldir sat, looking (admittedly) slightly ill at ease, with the men of the Mark and two of his remaining archers, on the right side of the king. Legolas, Gimli and Lupa were sat by Gandalf on the left side. The elf was watching Gimli's attack on a piece of bread with one delicate eyebrow arched in disapproval - but when he looked to his other side and regarded Lupa worrying a roast haunch of rabbit, his expression became quite unreadable. 

Aragorn suppressed a smile. He was very glad to see the disparate members of the Fellowship showing signs of regaining their old cameraderie. The wolf-claw pendant hung at Legolas's neck had not gone unnoticed by the Ranger, either. 

He looked down at the silver necklace that Arwen had given to him at their parting. 

_Maybe sometimes, we all need someone to fight for. It is easy, in war, for the fight to become so big that we can forget why we are fighting at all_, he thought. _We can lose ourselves in that moment where the war is all that matters and not why it is being fought. Perhaps it is better, sometimes, to remember the smaller things…_

He felt bright elvish eyes upon him, and realised that Legolas had noticed his preoccupation. The Mirkwood elf inclined his head, very briefly, as if he had heard Aragorn's thoughts and was agreeing. Then he turned back to Lupa, who was choking on a chip of bone, thumped her on the back with one long hand and rebuked Gimli for laughing -

Aragorn thought of Arwen, and the spectre of Elrond Half-Elven rose up unbidden in his mind. _Of course there are some wars that have to be fought alone…_

Gandalf stood, rapped the end of his staff on the table.

"Theoden King," he said, addressing the monarch, "your people have won a great victory here. But this is by no means the end. Saruman awaits, though his forces are scattered, and he is still powerful. Therefore I go to Isengard, and all who wish may go with me."

Lupa spat out the bone chip (Legolas, smacking hard between her shoulder-blades, had eventually managed to dislodge it) took several deep breaths, and said: "I will ride with you, Mithrandir, if my poor horse will consent to carry me."

Gandalf chuckled. "If he will not, I am sure some horse of Rohan will," he said. "But I am surprised at your decision."

"Surely you would not turn such a capable warrior away, Mithrandir," Haldir said, with perhaps a hint of sarcasm, and Eowyn glowered icily at him from her seat next to her uncle. 

"I am honoured that you call me a capable warrior," said Lupa sweetly, turning sharp eyes on Haldir. "I shall be sure and ride especially close to you when we travel, that I may guard you better."

Haldir did his best to ignore this comment, and chose instead to cast a haughty gaze upon Legolas, who looked as if he was trying to hide a smile and not managing it very well. Lupa had no such pretensions and chuckled.

"Very well then," said Gandalf. "Rest well tonight! Tomorrow the White Rider goes forth from Helm's Deep."

Lupa sat alone on the wall, looking upwards in the moonlight. It was that time of morning before the dawn begins to pale in the sky, and the stars were burning brightly. 

"Are you that much enamoured of us that you emulate us to the extent of not sleeping?"

Legolas was leaning in the doorway, his head on one side, blond hair seeming white under the moon.

"I would emulate any creature, fair or foul, that can sleep with its eyes open and so keep watch," Lupa said. "But I was not trying to be an elf. I was merely looking at the moon."

Legolas considered the sky for a long moment: then he sat down at her side and said, "I hope you are not planning to follow myself and Aragorn all the way to Mordor…"

"Is that where you are going?"

"It is possible."

"Then you need not fear," Lupa said, "for I have no wish to go to that dark place. I will go to Isengard and then into Fangorn, for I have always wanted to see it -"

"As had I."

" - and then I shall return to Lorien, where perhaps the war will not reach me, even if only for a little while." Lupa looked across at the elf-prince then and smiled, a little sadly. "I wonder sometimes whether my time on Middle-earth is as limited as yours," she said. "But you can at least leave with dignity. Me? I fully expect to see my skin stretched on the walls of Bree a few brief years after you elves leave."

Legolas frowned. "Perhaps you could go with us -"

She was shaking her head and laughing. "Perhaps you could come and visit _me_, once in a while. There is no magic in me. I have not bourne a magic ring, I am no elf, I do not wield the sacred fire. I am just Lupa of Mirkwood, but I _will_ find a way to escape Middle-earth before its end."

Legolas chuckled softly at her vehemence. "When you do," he said, "remember me and be glad."

Lupa looked at him seriously: "When I do," she replied, "I will come back and fetch you away from the Havens…and then you can come and live with me for a while." 

She flicked the tip of his wolf-claw necklace with one finger. "So long as you wear this," she said. "I will be able to find you. In this world or any other."

"Be careful," said Legolas, laughing. "I shall start feeling hunted!"

"You should," the wolf-girl teased. "But you will be safe enough tomorrow. Remember that tomorrow I have promised Haldir that I will ride with_ him_, and he should be glad to have me - the last skin-changing wolf in Middle-Earth!"

They rode forth from Helm's Deep the next morning, and the adventure of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli that followed is well-known and loved by hobbit-children many generations removed from Frodo Baggins. Lupa of Mirkwood remained true to her word. At the meeting on the ruins of Isengard, she turned her horse and rode back into the forest. Much to Legolas's surprise, Haldir of Lorien rode with her, saying that he would return to his people in the Golden Wood, and would be glad to accompany the wolf-girl as far as she would have him: Lupa merely showed him her white teeth and answered that he was welcome to ride with her, as long as he did not expect good conversation from such a lowly mortal as herself. To _everybody_'s surprise, Haldir seemed to find this most amusing. 

So it was that Lupa and Legolas of Mirkwood parted ways before the Great War: and little is to be said of the aftermath save that Lupa did indeed fulfil her wish and leave the shores of Middle-earth before the Age of Man took hold. But Strider the Ranger, King of Gondor and friend to Prince Legolas, knew that the elf never removed the necklace, and was often to be seen gazing out towards the Sea, one hand at his neck, as if waiting.

_Hmmm! I may just have to write some more about Lupa and Legolas some time. I've even intrigued myself!!_


End file.
